Hollywood Babylon
by Dede42
Summary: The Winchesters go to Hollywood to investigate the death of a crew member at a studio and discovered that there is more going on than a simple haunting of a movie that contains real supernatural stuff in its' script. Will the Winchesters save the day, or will they die with the movie business?
1. Chapter 1: GOING HOLLYWOOD

Supernatural: Hollywood Babylon

A/N: Happy early New Year! Now I was going to post this tomorrow, but I figured that I best play it safe since tomorrow is New Year's Eve, and I'm going to be doing stuff with my family. So, I'm posting it tonight instead; yup, it's currently after 11:00 pm here in Happy Valley, Utah, and as soon as I get this posted, I'm going to bed.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_ ; I just own the characters that I happen to create.

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE: GOING HOLLYWOOD**

" _Come down, and sit in the dust, O virgin daughter of Babylon, sit on the ground:_ _there is_ _no throne, O daughter of the Chaldeans: for thou shalt no more be called tender and delicate_ _."_

 _Isaiah 47:1_

It was night in a forest with a lone cabin in a clearing, where the porch swing was swaying slightly, making the chains creak; a young girl, Wendy, exited the cabin, and was searching the area with a flashlight, clearly scared.

"Mitch? Ashley? You out here?" she called out, but got no response. "Come on, guys! Where are you?" it was then that she heard the leaves rustling behind her and spun around, trying to find the source, terrified. "Hello? Hello?!" Suddenly, she felt a hand on her back; screaming, she turned to see it is her friend, Brody. "Brody!"

"Ashley and Todd - they're dead!" Brody gasped, freaking out. "Wendy, they're dead!"

' _Oh God,'_ Wendy thought and tried to calm her friend down. "Brody, pull it together."

"Pull it together?!" Brody snapped, outraged. "We don't have a _chance_ , okay? We have to get out of here _now_!"

"No, Brody, we are not leaving," Wendy protested. "We have _got_ to find my sister."

Brody shook his head. "No! No, I am getting out of here right now!" and he ran off in the other direction.

"Brody! Brody, get back here!" Wendy shouted after him. "Brody! God, you son of a bitch!" She then heard new movement behind her and stopped crying; slowly she turned, and she let out a long, loud scream, but quickly began to look annoyed as she took a breath.

And it turned out that the girl was on a movie set; a camera was in her face, with a tennis ball fixed to the top, representing the monster she was supposed to be screaming at. She stopped screaming, looking disgusted, and the director, McG, watched from the sidelines.

"Cut!" he shouted and then grumbled under his breath. "What the _hell_ was that?"

The lights came up on the set, and a props guy took the flashlight from the actress playing Wendy, Tara Benchley, who nodded her thanks; a production assistant, Walter Dixon, handed Tara a Snapple.

"Here you go."

"Thanks, Walter," Tara said gratefully taking the bottle.

McG walked over to Tara, who was shaking up her drink. "It's all good, Tara, that was great," he told her, hiding his frustration. "Let's do it again. Uh, maybe try dialing up that scream, huh?"

Tara sighed, annoyed that she'd goofed on the scream…again. "I know. I know. I'm just…I'm having trouble with the tennis ball."

"Oh, that is just for CG registration," McG explained. "Now, when Ivan and the FX guys are done, it is going to look terrifying. Do you wanna look at the concept sketches again? Will that help?" and an assistant brought over a notebook full of sketches of the monster.

"No, that's okay," Tara said quickly, shuddering slightly at the sketches that'd already given her more than a few nightmares that week alone. "I'll find it, I'll find it."

McG smiled. "I know you will, pumpkin."

"Going again, everybody!" one of the set-workers called out. "Ten-minute reload for camera and sound!"

* * *

Tara sat in her chair by Rick, the actor playing Brody; another set worker, Frank, was talking to them and rolling up some cables.

"Oh, man, I'm telling you - working alone behind the sets, or after wrap? I catch this weird vibe sometimes," he told them.

"Oh, like what?" Rick asked.

Frank shrugged. "Like something's watching."

Rick laughed and ate his yogurt. "Come on."

Frank, however, was serious. "Hey, working on a movie like this? Weird crap is bound to happen."

Rick then turned to Tara. "Frank here thinks the stage is haunted," he informed her, grinning. "Like, for _real_." And she laughed.

Frank shrugged again. "All I'm saying is, they call wrap, I'd get done, and I'd get out of here. Fast." And he walked away.

Both Rick and Tara watched him go. "That guy is definitely off his meds." And they laughed…well, Rick laughed, but Tara was looking a bit nervous.

* * *

A while later, Tara was standing in the middle of the "woods", going over her lines, and she was also trying to prepare herself for the loud scream that the director wanted.

"Brody, come back!" she quietly shouted. "You son of a bitch!" and then she tried practicing the scream, but she couldn't quite get it. _'Damn it! Why does the girl_ always _have to scream?'_ "Brody, come back! You son of a bitch!" Again, she tried screaming, but she _still_ couldn't get it; suddenly, she heard someone on the set nearby.

"Hello?" Tara called out, but there was nothing. "Guys? Come on, it's not funny." Still there was no answer. "Okay, haha, very funny." Again, she heard someone moving around and she started to become nervous. "Hello? Who's there?"

She kept walking among the forest scenery, until she saw a familiar baseball cap fall onto the ground in front of her; she looked up to the scaffolding and saw a male ghost, before it vanished. Then, she noticed that Frank was dead, lying on the walkway while blood covered his face, which was frozen with a look of horror; realizing what she was seeing, she let out a long, bloodcurdling scream.

* * *

On the other side of the set, McG and the production crew heard Tara's scream.

"Now _that's_ what I'm talkin' about!" McG said, delighted.

* * *

Los Angeles, CA

Warner Bros. Studios…

The Winchesters were taking part in the trolley tour of the studio, passing by movie and television sets.

"First opened in 1927, the lot has been in continuous operation for eight decades."

Excited, Dean turned to a kid next to him, who was eating ice cream. "Hey, you know this is where they filmed _Creepshow_?" and the kid gave him a strange look.

"Now, to the right, here is Stars Hollow," the tour guide announced. "It's the setting for the television series, _Gilmore Girls_. And if we're lucky, we might even catch one of the show's stars.

Sam was suddenly uncomfortable, and turned to Dean, who was sitting on a bench behind him and Liz. "Come on."

"Let's finish the tour!" Dean pleaded.

Shaking his head, Sam grabbed Liz's arm, surprising her, and they both hopped off the trolley. "Dean!"

Pouting, Dean hopped off as well, and they continued walking around the lot.

"Sammy, check it out, it's Matt Damon!" he said, pointed.

Sam looked and shook his head while Liz rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not Matt Damon."

"No, it is," Dean insisted.

"Well, Matt Damon just picked up a broom and started sweeping," Liz remarked.

"Yeah, well, he's probably researching a role or something," Dean said, not wanting to admit that he was wrong.

Sam chuckled. "I don't think so." He then noticed a sign. "Hey, this way. I think Stage 9 is over here."

Dean didn't want to go. "Come on, man, let's keep going this way."

"No, come on, we've gotta work," Sam stated and Dean sighed, disappointed. "Dude, you wanted to come to LA."

"Yeah, for a vacation," Dean declared. "I mean, swimming pools and movie stars, not to work."

"This seem like swimming pool weather to you, Dean?" Liz asked, skeptically since it was currently overcast. "I mean it's practically Canadian."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah. I just figured that after everything that happened with Madison, you could use a little R-and-R, Sam, that's all."

Sam sighed, not wanting to think about what happen a few days ago. "Well, maybe I wanna work, Dean," he retorted. "Maybe it keeps my mind off things."

"Okay, okay," Dean said, relenting. "All right. So, this crew guy - he died on set?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, rumors spreading like wildfire online saying the set's haunted."

"Like _Poltergeist_?" Dean asked.

"It could be a poltergeist," Sam agreed.

Dean shook his head. "No, no. Like, the movie _Poltergeist_." And sighed when Sam shrugged while Liz chuckled. "You know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you?" he asked, disappointed. "It was rumored that the set of _Poltergeist_ was cursed. That they used real human bones as props. And, like, at least three of the actors died in it."

"Yeah, it might be something like that," Sam remarked thoughtfully.

Dean grinned. "All right, so this crew guy - what's his name?"

"Frank Jaffey," Liz answered.

"Frank Jaffey," Dean repeated. "He got a death certificate or a coroner's report or anything?"

"Well, no," Sam admitted. "But it's LA, you know? It might not even be his real name. But the girl who found him said she saw something - a vanishing figure."

"What's the girl's name?" Dean asked, interested.

"Tara Benchley," Sam answered.

Dean stopped and stared at his siblings, surprised. "Whoa, whoa, Tara Benchley?" he repeated. "From _FeardotCom_ and _Ghost Ship_ , Tara Benchley? Dude, why didn't you say so?"

Sam was surprised. "So now, you're suddenly on board?"

Dean nodded, becoming serious. "Oh, I mean, I'm just a fan of her work. She's very good." He then walked away, thrilled, and both Liz and Sam sighed. Here they go again.

* * *

On Stage 9, one of the studio execs for the movie, Brad Redding, was talking to McG and the producer, Jay Wiley, and he was giving them a hard time about the movie.

"No, look, don't get me wrong," he said, trying to sound like he really cared, which he didn't. "Everyone at the studio _loves_ the dailies, myself included. We were just wondering if it could be…you know, a little brighter."

"Brighter?" Jay repeated, hoping that this suit _didn't_ mean what he thought he meant.

Brad nodded. "Yeah, Jay. More color. McG, you know what I'm saying, you're the master of that stuff."

McG sighed, not liking where this was heading, especially when it came to the _type_ of movie they were shooting. "Brad, this is a _horror_ movie."

"And who says horror has to be dark?" Brad asked. "It's sort of depressing, don't you think?" He then noticed the Winchesters entering the set. "Uh, excuse me, Green Shirt Guy?" he called out, and Dean pointed to himself. "Yeah, you. Come here." Dean exchanged a confused look with Sam and Liz, and walked over to Brad. "Can you get me a smoothie from Kraft?"

Dean was confused. "You want a what from who?"

Brad scoffed, annoyed. "You are a P.A.? This is what you do?"

Exchanging an alarmed look with Liz, Sam quickly walked over to "save" Dean. "Yeah, yeah…uh, one smoothie coming right up." And they walked away.

"What's a P.A.?" Dean asked.

"I think they're kind of like slaves," Sam guessed and they all gave Brad a thumbs-up.

Brad chuckled and shook his head. "They'll let anybody in this business, huh?" and both McG and Jay smiled weakly, deciding not to tell him that the three strangers _weren't_ part of the crew.

* * *

Once they were out of earshot, the Winchesters compared notes of what to do.

"Well, I say that we just got our cover story," Liz remarked and both Dean and Sam agreed since it was a good one as any.

* * *

Later, the cast and crew were getting ready to resume shooting; Dean, who'd been walking around with a tray of smoothies for the cast and crew, quickly set it down, and started to go up the stairs to the scaffolding, where the vic, Frank, had died. Suddenly, the lights on set went down, and the actors began their take.

"Why don't we take it from, "Come on, it'll be fun"," McG suggested. "And, action!"

The actors were now standing inside the abandoned house, and "Wendy", played by Tara, had a book open in front of her.

"Come on, it'll be fun," "Wendy" told her friends, and she began reading from the book in very choppy Latin. While she was doing so, Dean made his way up the scaffolding; he took out his EMF meter and scanned the area, but nothing happened. Meanwhile, Tara was doing her best to read the Latin, but she was barely getting through it.

"Maybe we'll finish this up tomorrow," McG suggested.

Tara started laughing, breaking character. "Oh my God, I hate you so much right now."

"Cut!" McG called out as the cast and crew all began laughing, and he rolled his eyes. "Very nice."

* * *

A few minutes later, Sam and Liz joined Dean, who was sampling the food, at the Kraft services table.

"So?"

"No EMF anywhere," Dean answered.

Sam sighed, he and Liz hadn't had that much either in finding out anything about Frank, even with his Jedi trick and his empathetic ability. "Great. So, what do you think?"

"Well, I think being a P.A. sucks," Dean declared. "But the food these people get, are you kidding me? Look at these things." He picked up a small sandwich. "They're like miniature Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. They're _delicious_." He held one of them out to Sam and Liz, who grimaced.

"Maybe later," Sam said.

Dean shrugged and took a huge bite. "What'd you find out about the dead crew guy?"

"Frank Jaffey was just filling in for the day," Liz explained. "Nobody here knew him or where he lived or anything."

"Oh, great," Dean grumbled. "So you both found out about as much as I did."

"No, not quite-" Sam began.

Just then, Walter approached. "Hey, guys."

"Oh, hey," Dean responded and watched Walter walk away with a sandwich. "They're wonderful!"

"Listen, I did dig up some stuff about Stage 9's history," Sam continued.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, four people died messy here over the past eighty years," Sam confirmed. "Two suicides and two fatal accidents."

"Any one of those could be a vengeful spirit," Dean remarked.

"Yeah," Liz agreed. "We've just gotta narrow it down more."

Dean smiled when he noticed Tara walk onto the set. "I'll get right on that," he said, fixated on her; he walked over to Tara, grabbing a call sheet from one of the set workers, who protested, as he walked by. Nervously, he stepped up to Tara.

"Are you supposed to get one of these?" he asked; she looked up at him and smiled, noticing his good looks. "I don't really know what I'm doing."

"First day?" Tara asked.

Dean nodded with a nervous chuckle. "Yeah. My big break." And she laughed. "You know, I know it's really uncool to say this, but I'm a big fan. I loved you in _Boogeyman_."

"Oh, God, what a terrible script," Tara moaned. "But thank you."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, and then decided on asking the question. "You found him, right? The dead guy?" he asked, and she went quiet and looked away. "I'm sorry, you probably don't even wanna talk about this."

Tara shook her head and looked back at him. "No, no, actually. It's okay," she promised. "Nobody around here really brings it up very much. I think they're all scared I'm gonna have some kind of breakdown."

Dean nodded. "That must have been awful. What happened?"

"It was _horrible_ ," Tara agreed. "There was all this blood coming from his eyes and from his mouth. And, uh…I saw this, um…" She then stopped, embarrassed.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I saw this shape," Tara answered. "To tell you the truth, I don't know actually what I saw. I just know I _saw_ it."

Just then, Walter walked up and handed her a Snapple. "Here you go, Tara."

Tara smiled, taking the bottle. "Thanks, Walter." He returned the smile and then walked away.

"So, this crew guy, Frank - did you know him?" Dean asked.

Tara shook her head. "No, not that well."

"It's funny, it's like no one around here actually knew the guy," Dean remarked since it was true.

"I've got his picture," Tara told him.

Dean was surprised. "You do?"

Tara nodded, smiling. "Yeah. I take Polaroids of all the crew. It's just one of those things you do to kill time on set." She then flipped through a binder until she found his picture. "Right there."

Dean looked at it closely and realized something…he _knew_ this guy. "Son of a bitch."

* * *

A guy walked to his front door when there was a knock; he opened it to see the Winchesters outside.

"Gerard St. James?" Dean asked.

The man, who looked _exactly_ like Frank, nodded. "Yes."

"You're still alive," Sam commented. "And you're _not_ Frank Jaffey."

Gerard grimaced. "Uh, no."

"You were Desert Soldier Number Four in _Metalstorm: The Destruction of Jared-Syn_?" Dean asked.

Gerard nodded. "I was."

Dean grinned. "I _knew_ I recognized you. I am a _huge_ fan. I mean, your turn as a tractor crash victim in _Critters 3_?"

Gerard beamed. " _Critters 3_!"

"Wow. Yeah," Dean agreed.

Gerard gestured to let them in. "Well, please, come in." They entered the house while he brought them coffee; there were pictures lining the walls of Gerard, merely an actor, portraying various characters. "Yeah, it was the producers," he explained. "They brought me up for the day to play Frank."

"Just to fake your death?" Liz asked.

Gerard nodded. "Well, rumors of a haunted film set, free publicity, especially when you're making a horror movie. It's already all over the Internet."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "We know."

Gerard shrugged. "These days, it's all about new media, building buzz. They say I'm the new LonelyGirl."

"Who?" Dean asked, confused.

"And the ghost Tara saw?" Sam asked, focusing on the current subject.

"Projected on a screen of diffusion," Gerard responded.

"Isn't that kind of cruel?" Liz asked. "Messing with their heads like that?"

"Hey, I just play the part," Gerard explained. "I don't write the script. Speaking of, I'm playing Willy in a dinner theatre production of Salesman at Costa Mesa, all next month." And he handed Dean a flyer. "You get a free pepper steak with the coupon."

Dean took the flyer and frowned. "Now, wait a second. If you're seen in public, won't that ruin the hoax?"

Gerard laughed. "Oh, please. Frank and Willy? _Totally_ different characters."

"You know what? Thanks very much, Mr. St. James," Sam said, standing up and both Dean and Liz followed suit. "It was just nagging at us. But we're very glad…you know, you're alive and well."

"Absolutely," Dean agreed as Gerard shook their hands. "Hey, I wanted to ask you…what was it like working with Richard Moll?" and then he explained to a confused Sam and Liz. " _Metalstorm_. He was Hurok, King of the Cyclops people."

Gerard shrugged. "Gentlemen's gentleman."

Dean was surprised. "Yeah?" he then chuckled, brandishing the theatre coupon. "All right. Pepper steak."

* * *

The actors, playing "Mitch" and "Kendra", were filming in the abandoned house.

"When we read from that book, we must have brought them back," "Mitch" said, pacing. " _Back_ from hell."

While "Kendra" delivered her line, Dave, the sound guy, received a staticky feedback through his headphones, distorting the dialogue.

"It doesn't matter," "Mitch" continued. "We're not going _anywhere_ until we find Wendy and her sister. Got it? Good. Now let's get busy."

"Cut!" McG called out. " _Very_ nice."

"No good for sound," Dave announced. "I'm getting some kind of feedback." And the cast and crew sighed, disappointed.

"Another costly sound delay," one of the set workers complained. "All right, we're going again for sound, people!"

"Thank you!" said Dave.

* * *

On another area of the set, Brad was talking with McG and the writer, Marty.

"No, no, look," he said to the writer, who was annoyed. "It's a great scene, really, _dynamite_. But I've still got a few… _not_ problems, just _questions_."

"Like what?" McG asked, annoyed.

"Well, for one thing, the rules aren't _really_ landing for me," Brad explained. "Like, the kids do this Latin chant, and that makes the ghosts show up?"

McG nodded. "Yeah."

"See, but if the ghosts are in hell, how do they hear the chanting?" Brad asked. "I mean, _what_ do they have, super-hearing? It's a logic bump. The rules don't _track_."

McG sighed, hating this studio suit right now. "Marty, you're the writer."

Marty sighed. "What if I throw in an explainer?"

Brad beamed. "Yeah, that'd be super. Excuse me, I've gotta check some messages." And he left, focused on his Bluetooth.

"Suits," McG grumbled.

* * *

Meanwhile, Brad wandered off to another area of set, alone; while looking at his Blackberry, he noticed a woman behind him. She was in ghostly white make-up from head to toe, dressed in a robe; she was wearing dark lipstick and had black marks on her neck, clearly formed by ropes. She didn't say anything, but smirked at him.

"Has McG seen this?" Brad asked, assuming that she was a member of the cast. "I like the whole body paint, black-and-white thing. But gee, I don't think those neck wounds are really gonna read on camera." And he looked closely at them. "They need to be red. You know what I'm saying?" he then called to the other end of the set. "Hey, Jay? I need to speak to make-up right away."

The woman moved closer and tapped him on the shoulder; he turned back around to face her. "Yeah?"

The woman, still silent, took off her robe in front of him, revealing that she was _completely_ naked; Brad watched as she turned and walked up the stairs to the scaffolding.

He smirked. "Be right up."

* * *

A few minutes later, the actors had resumed filming.

"When we read from that book, we must have brought them back," "Mitch" said, pacing. " _Back_ from hell."

"But I don't understand," "Kendra" said, scared. "If they were in hell, how could they hear our chanting?"

"Mitch" shrugged. "They must have super-hearing!"

Suddenly, the ceiling of the abandoned house caved in, and Brad fell through, hanging from a noose; the actors screamed and ran off set. Brad's Bluetooth fell to the floor as he hung there, dead.

* * *

A/N: I now leave you with an evil cliffy! _MWAHAHAHAHAHA!_ R &R everyone!


	2. Chapter 2: SPIRITS, SPIRITS EVERYWHERE

Supernatural: Hollywood Babylon

A/N: Good morning, folks, or evening, depending on where you live. So, I've got an early shift at work in a few hours, but I figure I would post this first.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_ ; I just own the characters that I happen to create.

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWO: SPIRITS, SPIRITS EVERYWHERE**

" _I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all_ _is vanity_ _and vexation of spirit_ _."_

 _Ecclesiastes 1:14_

The next morning, the actors are filming once again. Tara's character, "Wendy", entered the abandoned house, clutching her flashlight tightly, and looked around.

"Wendy?" "Mitch" asked, coming out from behind the couch with "Kendra".

"Oh, Mitch!" "Wendy" gasped as they hugged. "God, you're _alive_!"

"Mitch" smiled. "You can't get rid of me that easy."

* * *

"Rumble, rumble, rumble!" McG ordered from off-stage and the house began shaking, making the three actors hold on to each other.

"Salt. Okay, we need salt," "Wendy" said, trying to remain calm and keep her balance. "I read in that book that it keeps ghosts away."

"Mitch" nodded. "Kendra, Logan, you guys check the back."

* * *

Off-camera, Marty lowered his headset and began whispering to the producer, Jay, voicing his concerns.

"Jay, the poor bastard killed himself," he whispered. "Like, for _real_. Shouldn't we shut it down or something?"

"We had a moment of silence for him at breakfast," Jay retorted, his own headset for a moment. "He was just a studio guy."

"Shh!" McG hissed.

"I love you," "Wendy" told "Mitch".

"I know," "Mitch" agreed, shining his flashlight directly in her face, making her wince and break character. "Sorry," he apologized, also breaking character as he lowered the beam.

"Can we cut or something?" Tara asked.

McG was surprised, but nodded. "Uh…yeah, cut. Cut!"

"That's a cut!" Dean, who was now wearing a headset and other P.A. gear, called out and then resumed eating his taquito.

"Only the director can say cut, Dean," Liz told him, and she was also a headset and P.A. gear; after learning about Brad's death, the Winchesters had contacted Penelope Garcia, who, along with Sam's Jedi mind trick, managed to get them all connected to the movie by way of the crew.

McG left his seat and approached Tara. "Hey, what's up?" he asked kindly.

Tara sighed, recalling what happen yesterday. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little upset."

"Well, with everything that's been going on around here, who can blame you?" McG agreed, also thrown by the various mishaps.

Tara nodded and voiced another concern. "I just can't wrap my head around the dialogue, you know? Salt? Doesn't that sound silly? I mean, why would a ghost be afraid of salt?" she asked, and both Dean and Liz smirked.

McG saw that she had a point since the "ghost being scared of salt" business had him confused, too. "Okay, um…Marty?"

Marty, who'd been texting, looked up from his phone. "Yo."

"What do you think?" McG asked.

Marty shrugged. "Not married to salt, what do you want? We're still sticking with condiments?"

"It just sounds different, not better," McG admitted, frowning. "What else would a ghost be scared of?"

Walter was standing next to Dean and Liz, and he clearly didn't like the direction that the conversation was taking. "Oh, you've _gotta_ be kidding me." And the Winchester twins were surprised and curious by his reactions.

"What would a ghost be scared of?" Marty asked Jay, who shrugged, and then got an idea. "Maybe shotguns."

McG scoffed. "Okay, that makes even _less_ sense than salt."

Walter, who was clutching the script, threw his hands up in disgust. "These people are _idiots_." And he left, fuming, just as Sam walked up.

"Walter's a little testy for a P.A., huh?" Dean remarked and Liz agreed.

"How's it going in here?" Sam asked, joining them.

"It is going really good, man," Dean responded. "Tara's really stepped up her performance. I think it's probably from all the sense memory stuff she's drawing on."

Sam was confused. "Sense memory?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah." And then winced when Liz elbowed him, almost made him drop his plate of food.

"That's not what Sam's asking about."

Sam sighed, throwing Liz a grateful look. "Dean, you know when I ask how it's going in here, I'm talking about the case, right? We don't really work here. You know, I thought you hated being a P.A." and he raised his eyebrows when he saw what his siblings were wearing.

"It helps us blend in," Liz explained.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. It's not so bad. I kind of feel like part of the team, you know?" he then held out his plate. "Taquito? They're wonderful."

Sam shook his head. "No. Umm…Listen, I _talked_ my way into the morgue."

"And?" Dean asked.

"News reports were right: Brad's a doornail, no question," Sam concluded.

"Makes sense," Liz agreed.

"Copy that," Dean said into his headset, clearly not hearing what Sam said. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Copy that?" Sam repeated until Liz pointed to her own headset and mouthed, "talking to someone else", and then he understood.

"What did you say?" Dean asked, and Sam could now see that he was talking into the headset and not him. "They _are_ aware."

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Dean _finally_ asked Sam.

"The newspaper's right," Sam told him. "Brad's a doornail, no question about it."

Dean nodded. "I guess it's a good thing we didn't skip town."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

Dean then remembered something. "Oh, come here. We want you to hear something." And then spoke into his headset again. "Copy that. On my way." And they led Sam over to the sound guy, Dave. "Hey, Dave. Can you play him that thing you were playing for us earlier?"

Dave nodded. "Sure." He handed a pair of headphones to Sam and then rewound the tape.

Sam took the headphones and put them on. "Thanks." He then listened to the audio of one of the scenes in the movie; midway through the dialogue, the sound became staticky and distorted, and he exchanged an understanding look with Dean and Liz, who'd picked up on the same thing.

* * *

A while later, they were walking through the backstage area of the set, talking about what was on the sound recording.

"EVP," Sam remarked.

"From the night of Brad's stage dive," Dean confirmed. "All of a sudden, we're getting electromagnetic readings up the wazoo. For some reason, it's a legit haunting now."

"And from what I've heard, Brad was giving the director, the writer, _and_ a producer a _really_ hard time about the film itself," Liz added. "Apparently he wanted it to be _brighter_ more _colorful_ , and couldn't get his head around that it's a _horror_ movie."

Sam chuckled and then returned to the topic at hand. "Well, who's the ghost, Dean? Liz? What's it want?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "I think we should take a look at Brad's death scene."

* * *

Outside in the lot, Dean and Liz led Sam to one of the trailers. Once inside, Dean popped a DVD into the television and they all sat down.

"Hey, where'd you get this DVD?" Sam asked, surprised.

"They're called dailies," Dean explained as he and Liz lowered their headsets and he worked the remote. "I got it from Cindy. She's kind of got this on-and-off thing going with Drew. He dubbed me an extra copy." And they watched the footage of the scene, complete with Brad's surprise entrance. "All right, here's where the guy fell through the roof."

Sam nodded. "Right."

"All right, here we go," said Liz.

 _`"They must have super-hearing,"`_ "Mitch" said, and then, suddenly, Brad fell through the ceiling of the set, hanging by a noose.

Sam noticed something moments before that happened. "Hey, wait, go back, go back." And Dean rewind the scene. "Right after. Right aft- yeah right. Wait. There."

Dean paused the frame; on the screen, they saw standing in the far corner of the set, was the ghostly white woman who led Brad to his death.

"It's like _Three Men and a Baby_ all over again," he said, stunned; Liz nodded while Sam looked at him, confused. "Selleck, Danson, and Guttenberg. And…I don't know who played the baby."

"Focus, Dean," Liz hissed, elbowing him in the side.

"What's your point?" Sam asked.

"There's a scene in the movie where people say that the camera caught a ghost on film," Dean explained. "Apparently, in the background of one of the scenes, there was this boy that nobody remembers from set. Spirit photography."

Sam looked at the woman and realization dawned on him. "I've seen her before.

* * *

Dean and Liz, their headsets in place, were sitting with Sam at a table and were changing the batteries on the walkie-talkies. Sam handed them a printout of an article.

"Here. Check this out."

Liz looked it over while Dean spoke into his headset, and Sam waited patiently. "Yeah, go for Ozzy." He listened. "No, I don't have a 20 on Tara, I think she's 10-100." He listened again. "Okay, copy that." He then looked at the paper in Liz's hands. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"Elise Drummond - starlet back in the thirties," Sam explained, nodding to the black/white photo of the woman. "Had an affair with a studio exec. He uses her up, fires her, leaves her destitute, so Elise hangs herself from Stage 9's rafters, right into a scene they're shooting."

"Just like our man, Brad," Dean commented. "So, what, she's got it in for the studio brass?"

Sam shrugged. "Possibly. I mean it's a motive. And Brad's death matches hers exactly."

"We're digging tonight, aren't we?" Liz asked and got two confirming nods. "So much for getting a decent night sleep."

* * *

Later on Stage 9 the crew was cleaning up for the day.

"That's a wrap, people! 6:00 AM call for crew tomorrow!"

"Great work, everybody! McG, you're a genius." Jay said, shaking McG's hand. "You're kicking ass and taking names."

McG nodded as he headed for the exit. "Night, Jay."

* * *

Meanwhile at the "Hollywood Forever" cemetery, the Winchesters were walking through, shovels in hand, searching for the right grave.

"Which way?" Sam asked.

Dean read a map he'd bought earlier and pointed, grinning when he spotted a unique statue. "Uh…over here. Hey."

Sam and Liz both looked. "Yeah?"

Dean gestured to a memorial for Humpty Dumpty. "This map is totally worth the five bucks!" he laughed, delighted. "Hey, we've gotta go check out Johnny Ramone's grave when we're done here."

"You wanna dig him up, too?" Sam asked and Liz laughed since it was a well-known fact that Johnny Ramone's remains were actually ashes in a container.

"Bite your tongue, heathen!" Dean scolded as they passed another memorial, this one of a guy playing a guitar. "Oh, that's cool."

"You know, Dean, what I don't get is why now?" Sam wondered, referring to the case. "I mean, after seventy-five years, Elise Drummond suddenly goes homicidal, you know? Why this movie?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, maybe she's mad they're making a scary ghost flick."

Sam scoffed. "Come on, is it really that scary?"

"Not really," Liz agreed.

Dean then spotted the right headstone. "Here we go."

They reached Elise's headstone and set their gear down.

"Yep. All right."

"Here we go."

"Yahtzee."

And they started digging.

* * *

Back at the sound stage, Jay was alone on the dark set, talking on his cell phone.

"I know," he complained. "No, I friggin' _hate_ McG's dailies. I can't control the guy. I'm telling you, next one, I'm directing myself." He listened. "What, you? No, Bob. You, I love. You're a genius! You're kicking ass and taking names." He listened again. "Yeah, okay. Yeah. Talk to you later, babe." He then hung up and scowled. "What a dick."

Suddenly, the lights went out on the set, plunging everything into darkness.

"Oh, great," he grumbled. "Hey, guys! Producer walking here, hello!" but there was no answer, everyone had gone home.

* * *

Back at the cemetery, the Winchesters had finished digging and opened the coffin, revealing Elise's corpse; soon they were pouring salt and gasoline over the bones and burned them.

* * *

Meanwhile Jay was trying to get around the forest scenery in the dark, when he saw a man walk by.

"Hey! Hey, pal!" he called out, finally reaching the area that held the house and found the man standing with his back to him in the doorway. "Can you show me to the exit? I can't see a damn thing here." The man didn't move. "Hey! Hey, putz! I'm talking to you! Somebody could get hurt here."

Suddenly, the man turned around; his face had been slashed, a section of his skull had been split open, and he had blood running down his mouth. Jay screamed and fell to the ground.

"What the hell?"

Suddenly, the fan on set turn on by itself, and the ghost flickered and vanished; breathing hard, Jay tried to crawl away, but the fan dragged him backwards. He tried to cling to the cables, but he got sucked into the fan and was torn apart, blood spraying everywhere.

* * *

The preview for the film, _"Hell Hazers 2"_ began playing on the screen.

 _Wendy entered the abandoned house, flashlight in hand._

 _`"They never forgive. They never forget."`_

 _Wendy was now in the woods. "Mitch? Ashley?"_

 _`"And this summer, they're coming back again to settle the score…_ again _."`_

" _You out here?" She suddenly turned, looked into the camera, and screamed. There was a quick montage of clips from the film._

" _Ashley and Todd - they're dead!" Brody cried. "Wendy, they're dead!"_

" _These bastards aren't taking us," Mitch declared. "Not without a fight."_

" _I am getting out of here right now!" Brody shouted._

" _Brody!" Wendy screamed._

 _Short clips from the movie play on the screen: Wendy reading in Latin, Kendra screaming, and the characters running through the woods._

 _`"From the producers of Cornfield Massacre, Monster Truck, and the director of Charlie's Angels, Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle, and Hell Hazers, comes a new experience in terror."`_

" _We must have brought them back," said Mitch. "Back from hell._ Again _."_

 _`"Hell Hazers 2: The Reckoning. This film is not yet rated_ _."`_

* * *

A/N: And that ends this chapter, see you all next time! R&R everyone!


	3. Chapter 3: YOU'RE ONE HELL OF A PA

Supernatural: Hollywood Babylon

A/N: I'm back with the final chapter and I don't know about you guys, but I'm looking forward to the weekend, and I'll be out of town for the weekend, too.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_ ; I just own the characters that I happen to create.

* * *

 **CHAPTER THREE: "YOU'RE ONE HELL OF A PA"**

" _When a man's ways please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him_ _."_

 _Proverbs 16:7_

The next morning the Winchesters watched as the police examined the crime scene where Jay was killed.

"Run-in with a giant fan," Sam reported. "Same thing happened to an electrician back in '66, a guy named Billy Beard."

"What the hell, dude?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Doesn't seem like Elise this time, either. It's not her M.O."

"No, we already torched her," Liz agreed. "So, what, are we dealing with another ghost?"

Sam shrugged again. "Maybe."

"Yeah, but these things don't usually tag-team," Dean pointed out.

* * *

Outside in the lot, McG was getting out of his car, and he gathered the cast and crew, including the Winchesters.

"Everybody! Gather around, okay! I've got an announcement to make," he requested, handing his car keys to his assistant. "Hold that for me. Everyone! Huddle in! In light of Jay's accident last night, and in cooperation with the authorities, we're shutting down production for a few days. I know, I know. Look, I'm not gonna lie to you. We've had a few setbacks this week. But we all know what Jay and Brad wanted more than anything. And that was to see _Hell Hazers 2: The Reckoning_ on screens all across America! Now, we owe it to them to go on and to pull together and make this damn movie, huh?"

And there were cheers and applause from the crowd.

"But not today," McG added, not thrilled. "Go home. Someone will call you." And then he went back to his assistant, collecting his stuff.

* * *

Sam was back inside the same trailer from yesterday, and he was watching more of the dailies. "Wendy" was reading in Latin when she was interrupted by "Kendra".

 _`"Wendy, don't,"`_ "Kendra" requested.

"Wendy" laughed. _`"What are you, afraid of ghosts? Come on, it'll be fun."`_

Just then, both Dean and Liz entered.

"Hey."

"Hey. So, you find out where the electrician's buried?" Sam asked as Dean went to the fridge while Liz sat down on the couch next to him.

"He wasn't," Dean answered, frustrated. "Billy Beard was _cremated_."

Sam sighed, hating it when that happened. "Great. Now what?"

Dean sighed, drinking from a bottle of water. "No idea. Anymore ghost cameos in the dailies?"

"Not in the first six hours," Sam answered, bored and frustrated. "You know, maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie because they think it _sucks_. Because, I mean, it kind of does."

"I have to agree," Liz added, yawning.

 _`"Come on, it'll be fun,"`_ "Wendy" said and she continued reading in Latin.

Sam suddenly noticed something and rewound; he sat up and listened closer to the Latin. "Listen to the invocation," he said and, as one, their eyes went wide. "Dean, Liz, that's the real deal - a necromantic summoning ritual. What the _hell_ is that doing in a Hollywood movie?"

* * *

Marty, the head writer was on the phone in his office. "No, dude, we're down for a few days - force majeure." He listened. "Yeah. It's cool, though. Gives me time to pitch that time-travel thing." He listened again. "Yeah. All right, get back to me on this, all right? Seriously." He kept listening and frowned. "No, I'm serious." He sighed. "Dude, are you serious? 'Cause I'm serious." He then noticed the Winchesters were waiting at the door. "All right. Cool." He then hung up. "Guys, we're all shut down. What are you still doing here?"

"Yeah, uh…sorry, man," Sam apologized as they stepped inside and he gently nudged the man's mind. "We couldn't help ourselves. We just had to tell you that we read the script."

"And?" Marty asked, sitting on the edge of his desk.

"Yeah. Uh…it's awesome," Sam responded.

Dean and Liz both nodded. "Awesome."

"Really awesome," Sam agreed.

Marty grinned. "I know, it's pretty rockin', right? I'm glad you guys liked it."

"Yeah, I really liked all the attention to detail," Sam remarked.

"Dude, right on, that's my thing," Marty agreed and beamed. "Color me guilty, but that is me. I'm a total detail buff."

Sam nodded. "No, I can tell. I mean, the way you worked in all those Enochian summoning rituals and all the authentic language."

Marty's smile faded upon hearing that. "What, you mean that Latin crap?" he scoffed. "No, man, that's Walter. Walter Dixon, the original writer. You _like_ that garbage?"

"Wait, "Walter the P.A." Walter?" Dean asked, surprised.

"No, he's not a P.A," Marty corrected, moving around to sit behind his desk. "He's got a clause in his contract that allows him to come on set."

"But he wrote the invocations?" Liz asked.

"He wrote a whack-job screenplay," Marty explained. "There's no pace, there's no love interest, it's all wackadoo exposition. I had to cut, like, _ninety percent_ of it to make it readable, the other _ten percent_ to make it good."

The Winchesters exchanged a bewildered look. _Walter_ wrote the screenplay?

* * *

A short while later, the Winchesters were reading Walter's original screenplay, _Lord of the Dead_.

"Should've kept Walter's original script," Dean commented. "It's actually pretty good."

"Yeah, now _this_ is scary," Liz agreed.

Sam nodded, tossing the screenplay onto a table. "Yeah. And it reads like a how-to manual of conjuration, like a textbook on how to summon ghosts and get them to do whatever you want."

"Yeah, like kill people," Dean remarked.

"Walter has some _serious_ issues," Liz muttered, setting aside the screenplay.

"Yep," Sam agreed. "So, let's say somewhere down the line, Walter learned some pretty black magic."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. And let's say he's pissed at these people for wrecking his movie."

"Motive and means," Liz commented. "Basically, we've got the guy's stressor right here."

Dean nodded. "It's worth checking out."

* * *

That night, Marty was walking among the forest scenery and spotted Walter.

"So, you wanted to meet?" he asked, but Walter said nothing. "Hey, I'm a _little_ busy here, buddy. I'm _working_ on a script."

"Oh, yeah," Walter agreed angrily, clutching something in his hand. "You guys worked on it _a lot_."

Marty sighed annoyed that Walter was bringing this up again. "It needed work. Now, why couldn't we have done this in my office?"

"You know, the history, the lore in my draft was completely accurate," Walter stated. "We could've gotten it _right_ for the first time ever in this whorehouse of a town. But you _tore_ it to shreds. You replaced it with cleavage and fart jokes. It was _real_."

"Who gives a rat's ass about "real"?" Marty scoffed. "We're talking about ghosts here, Walter. There's _no_ such thing."

Walter scowled. "That's where you're wrong, Martin." He then raised his hand, holding a talisman, and began chanting in Latin, while Marty rolled his eyes.

"Okay, nutjob. End of meeting." He turned around and came face-to-face with the same ghost that killed Jay; screaming, he fell to the floor and the ghost began dragging him towards the fan, which turned itself on…again. "Oh, God, no! Please, no!"

"You ruined it, Martin!" Walter shouted, following at a distance. "Everything I worked for!"

"Oh, God!" Marty screamed, struggling to get free. "Walter!"

Walter cackled. "Now you're gonna find out what being a ghost is really like."

"Walter, please!" Marty cried. "Walter, _help_ me!" Just as he was _inches_ away from the fan, two shotguns went off, blasting the ghost away; Dean and Liz approached, weapons in hand, while Sam turned off the fan.

Marty stared up at them, relieved and impressed. "You both are one _hell_ of a P.A."

"Yeah, I know," Dean agreed, helping him up.

"What are you doing?" Walter asked, surprised.

"I could ask you the same thing, Walter," Sam remarked, moving around his siblings and Marty; Walter began climbing up the stairs to the scaffolding. "Raising these spirits from the dead? Making them murder for you? That's playing with fire, Walter."

Walter shook his head, death gripping the talisman. "You don't understand."

"You know what? You're right, I don't understand," Sam agreed, nudging his mind in order to get the truth.

"Just…wait, look. You put your heart and soul into something, years of hard work," Walter explained, unaware that his mind was being altered. "It's years, and then they _take it!_ And they _crap_ all over it! And then they _want_ you to _smile_ and say, " _Thank you_ "."

Sam sighed. "Walter, listen. It's just a movie. That's it."

Walter scoffed. "Look…I've got nothing against you, man. You're not part of this. Just please, please, just leave. But Martin's _gotta_ stay."

"Sorry, can't do that," Dean said seriously. "It's not that we like him or anything, it's just a matter of principle."

"In other words, Walter, we _aren't_ letting you kill _anyone_ else," Liz added.

Walter frowned. "Then I'm sorry, too." He then raised the talisman again.

"Walter. Walter, pl- don't," Sam pleaded.

Walter began his chanting; the set began to shake, and three ghosts appeared, including the man who murdered Jay.

"Sam!" Dean shouted as he and Liz raised their guns; the ghosts, all of whom were deformed in some way, began walking closer, growling. "Come on, come on."

Suddenly, they disappeared, confusing both the Winchesters and Marty; then, out of nowhere, Sam was knocked to the floor - the ghosts were now invisible. Cursing, Dean helped him up.

"Come on, come on! Move!"

The Winchesters and Marty began running away while the lights on set began firing off; the four of them ran into another building and shut the door behind them. Both Dean and Liz reloaded their guns.

""Come out to the coast! We'll get together, have a few laughs!"" Dean quoted from the movie _"Die Hard"_ , doing the accent that Bruce Willis used as "John McClane"; he was angry and then he turned around and realized they'd entered the abandoned house set, and they hadn't actually reached any real shelter. "Oh, man!"

"Not good," Liz moaned.

"I can't believe this," Marty gasped. "Ghosts are _real_!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "What makes you say that?" and they looked around, ready to fight.

"But I don't understand. How is Walter controlling them?" Marty asked.

"Probably that talisman," Sam suggested, and then, suddenly, he took out his cell phone.

"What are you doing?" Marty asked.

"I mean, if film cameras pick these suckers up, then…maybe…" Sam muttered as he used his cell phone camera to scan the room; suddenly he saw one of the ghosts a few feet away, heading straight for Dean and Liz. "Dean! Liz! Right there!" he pointed and they shot it. "Got him." He then picked up another ghost. "Hey! Right there!"

Both Dean and Liz fired again; they then noticed Walter walking around the upper level. Sam then handed his phone to Marty.

"Here, you get the idea?"

Marty nodded, taking the phone. "Yeah."

"All right, you hold them off," Sam told them. "I'm going after Walter." And he left the set.

Marty held the phone in front of him, looking for ghosts. "I _cannot_ believe there's an afterlife."

"Oh, there's an afterlife, all right," Dean agreed, reloading his gun. "But mostly, it's a pain in the ass."

"Especially when it comes to vengeful spirits," Liz added, reloading her own gun.

Marty kept scanning the room with the phone, and saw a ghost. "There!" he then ducked to his left as the Winchester twins shot it.

* * *

Walter left the set through the back exit and came face-to-face with Sam.

"It's over, Walter," Sam told him, nudging his mind. "Now give it to me."

Instead of agreeing, Walter threw the talisman on the ground, shattering it. "There, okay? Now no one can have it."

Sam stared at the broken talisman in horror and began backing away. "I wouldn't have done that if I were you."

"Oh, yeah?" Walter asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

Walter didn't understand. "And why not?"

"Because you just _freed_ them," Sam explained. "We can't stop them now. Walter, you brought them back, _forced_ them to murder. They're not gonna be very happy with you." And just then, Marty and his siblings joined them outside.

Walter scoffed clearly unaware of the danger he was now in. "Yeah? So, why not?" Suddenly, he was knocked to the ground and began screaming in pain; blood began to seep through his clothing. Marty raised the cell phone and saw all of the ghosts tearing Walter apart. Sam had been right, it was too late to save him.

* * *

A few days later, the crew had resumed filming. "Kendra" and "Mitch" were now in the abandoned house; "Kendra" was scanning the room with her cell phone.

"Oh, God. Oh, God. There!" she shouted, pointing, and "Mitch" fired his gun. From the sidelines, McG was watching, ecstatic.

"But I don't understand," "Kendra" said, searching for more ghosts. "How can the spirits appear in the camera phone?"

"Mitch" shrugged, rearming his gun. "The video must pick up their frequencies in a way that our eyes can't."

"Oh, God. Oh, God," "Kendra" moaned, searching. "Right there!" and "Mitch" fired again.

"Cut! Oh, _print_ that one," McG said, excited. " _That's_ in the movie!" he then went onto the stage. "Loved it, kids. _Loved_ it."

* * *

Meanwhile, Marty, Liz, and Sam were also watching from the sidelines.

"You find out there's an afterlife, and this is what you do with it?" Sam asked, surprised.

Marty grinned. "I needed a little jazz on the page." And he began texting.

"It works for me," Liz remarked as they left the set. "And, I think it _makes_ the movie better when you think about it."

"True."

* * *

Sam and Liz were walking among the trailers; when they passed Tara's trailer, the door opened, and Dean came out, clearly disheveled, and he smirked. Tara also came outside as well, wearing a robe.

"You're one hell of a P.A," she told him.

Dean grinned. "Thank you."

Tara then noticed Sam and Liz. "Hi."

"Hi," Liz responded, repressing an eye roll at what Dean had now done. _'He just_ couldn't _resist.'_

Sam smiled uncomfortably before they all walk off; Dean grabbed some food from a table on the way out and Liz sighed. Sam looked back at Tara, who was clearly satisfied and was watching them leave; for a moment, it looked like the Winchesters were walking into the sunset, much like an old western, but then suddenly the entire background shifted around and it turned out to be a big screen. The Winchesters walked straight ahead, and it moved to the side.

"God, I _love_ this town," Dean declared as they continued walking with L.A in the far distance while people and golf carts and trucks moved around the lot; he turned around for a moment to look at a woman who just passed him and then they continued walking.

* * *

A/N: And cut! That's a wrap! See you all next time. R&R everyone!


End file.
